Athena's Raid: Book Two Perdition MC (11 page)

SIXTEEN

It turned out to be quite the ordeal, way more than she’d anticipated, to get all her shit packed up in the house and sell everything at the shop so that she didn’t have to haul that and store it somewhere until she could open up another one. Though, from how things were looking, Ever and Ripley were going to start fighting over who would get to have her stuff at their businesses. Ever had offered her a studio, a workshop really, where everything she dried, powdered, melted and blended could be made. Ripley had offered her product shelves and clients ready to buy her products, immediately.

Yesterday she’d asked them to compromise.

She’d make her stuff at Never Ever Land, using the nursery and its supplies as her main source of ingredients, selling only by special request, and the apothecary on site would become all hers. Transplanting
Athena’s Apothecary,
from Nevada to Texas, and use Ripley’s shop as her main storefront hub to sell the candles and beauty products Ripley special ordered.

This was after she’d had to leave both Cruncher, and Raid, in Texas. Raid had refused to let her take Cruncher on an airplane, their initial plan having been that Ruckus would dog sit for her, and they would fly back to Nevada together to pack her up. But some shit had gone down with the club, and Raid had been obviously torn. She’d told him to stay and take care of it, whatever IT was, and come out when he’d gotten his stuff handled. They talked every day, sometimes twice a day, sometimes for hours, sometimes only for a few minutes, but she loved hearing his deep voice on the phone, waking her up or sending her to sleep. It was crazy just how badly she missed him.

She’d just sat down at the counter,
Athena’s Apothecary
, 95% sold out, someone was even coming tomorrow to buy up her product shelves, since the ones Ever had for her were way cooler. She was packing up her empty tincture bottles, and what remained of her glass candle cups. Ever had a hook up with a local artist that blew some amazing glass, and would be her go to from now on for specialty glass jars for certain things…it seemed like she was really making the right move.
Wherever I May Roam,
started blasting from her cell phone, making an immediate smile bust across her face. “Hey, you.” She greeted, able to hear Raid’s answering smile when he replied, “Hey, baby. The movers Nasa lined up were supposed to come put your shit from the house in that Pod thing, did they do a good job?”

She smiled and moved around the store, mentally taking an inventory of what she had left to sell. But mostly she was just too jittery and flush with adrenaline to sit still. Getting to speak to him, like some goofy teenager talking to her crush. “They came, they loaded, and all that’s left in the house is an air-mat and the furniture the new owners asked to buy. The store is nearly sold out, so I expect by the end of next week everything will be loaded up and on its way.”

“Glad as fuck to hear that. Roar says Ever is vicariously nesting through you, apparently kid number two has got her on more of a Susie Homemaking rampage than last time. She’s got her people at the nursery digging a special trench or something just for your herbs and shit.”

She opened her mouth to respond, on the verge of laughter, when she heard something in the background that killed her giddiness.

Paging Dr. Yu-Speight, Dr. Yu-Speight your two thirty is here
.

“Babe? You still there?” Raid asked, and she took a second to keep herself from flying off the handle. There was no reason for that, there was a good explanation for why the doctor who’d performed Raid’s experimental surgery was being paged in the background, surely. “Are you at the hospital?” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and she felt a rather sickening churn of disappointment and worry, roll up her body like a heatwave. “I’m fine, just needed to take care of some shit.”

She rolled her lips together, pursed them, ran her fingertip over the top of one of the empty product shelves and counted to ten. “In Virginia?” She was rather surprised by how she managed to keep her tone and her words calm, when she was feeling anything but. “Yeah, I-“

“Was this the ‘club shit’ you were needing to take care of?”

“Part of it, had this appointment, and shit for the club to do up here, killin two birds with one stone.”

“Uh hu. So you’ve had this appointment to see the doctor who performed your experimental surgery, long enough to have mentioned it, but didn’t. Is that right?”

He sighed again, heavily, and because she couldn’t see his face, all she could hear was the exasperation. She considered for a moment that she might be blowing this out of proportion, internally, but seeing as how she’d committed enough to making a life that involved him in a major way, she was pretty fucking pissed off that the tone of his sigh was put upon. Like she was being unreasonable and naggy. “You’d have worried, and wanted to come, instead of going home to deal with your house and the shop. Ever’s got Cruncher, took him over there to get some shit and he raised hell when I tried to put him back in the truck, so she just said to leave him be. And she’s putting kale in his eggs every morning, I checked.”

She heard herself make a strangled little sound, and fought not to blow her stack and scream at him over the phone like a child throwing a tantrum. Uncle John had called her ‘Hopper’ for a reason. She jumped up and down when she got mad. Raid wouldn’t be able to see her do it, but he would hear the thumping and how out of breath she got, and that would probably be worse. He’d ask her what she was doing, then she’d have to explain, and the power of her mad on would lose its potency. “Of course I’d worry, I give a shit about what’s going on with you, and you left my dog without telling-“

“Raid! Hey gorgeous, I’m off in an hour and I’m ready to go when you are.”

There was no mistaking the lust, the eagerness and the familiarity in the female voice that called out to her man, and the sound of it was like a fist to the belly. He must have covered the receiver, because all she heard was his muffled response, and then the crystal clear sound of him saying her name, using that tone men used when they’d just been caught doing something worthy of a kick in the balls. Tears sprang to her eyes immediately, and she refused to let him have that from her. “I’ve got to go, customer just walked in.” She hung up before he could say anything else. Before she could hear that other woman’s voice again.

Anger.

Hurt.

Confusion.

Frustration.

Jealousy.

Inadequacy.

More hurt.

The cocktail was toxic.

She might have let him explain, probably would have believed whatever his explanation was, if he’d told her about the trip to Virginia in the first place. But he hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t have had to scramble for that bullshit excuse about not wanting to worry her or keep her from getting on with her move, if not for that intercom page. He’d have gone up there, taken care of his
business
, and come back to her, probably pleased as shit to have gotten away with it. Whatever, or whoever, IT was. He called her back almost as soon as she’d ended the call, but she declined it and turned the phone off. She had shit to pack. Yeah, she’d committed to moving, but right now, she wasn’t sure if Austin was going to be her final destination.

SEVENTEEN

He snarled out a string of vicious curses when Athena’s phone went to voicemail for the twentieth time in a fucking row. That, was going to earn her a seriously spanked ass once he got his hands on her. If he got them on her ever again. He knew what it must have sounded like to hear mother fucking Shirley, shaking her tits at him, after just learning he’d kept a secret from her and used the sacrosanct, Club Business isn’t Your Business, rule as an excuse for not telling her the truth. Yeah, he was on club business, sort of. It was his personal business, technically their business, seeing as how he was up here because Nasa had finally come back with the name of the person responsible for making his letters, and Athena’s letters disappear.

That, he could have, and obviously should have told her about. Fuck, he should have told her about the doctor’s appointment too, but truthfully he’d been worried about how it was going to go, having been feeling random numbness on and off for the last few weeks. And he hadn’t wanted to say anything, or risk having her fly off the handle. Or flown up here with him and sat beside him while the doctor gave him the news. She’d have been all over it, right there with him, and now standing here in the fucking hallway alone, missing her, wanting her snuggled up against him, wanting her hair in his face, smelling that rosewood and geranium scent she wore almost all the time now, needing it to push back the scent of disinfectant and death. Needing her, to keep him from revisiting the last year he’d spent in this fucking place, he seriously wished he’d just fucking told her, and not been such a pussy. His balls were sweating with how nervous he was to walk into that office, to have to go through all the tests and come out here alone…“Raid?”

He snapped back from kicking his own ass, feeling his skin crawl when Shirley put her hand on his chest, seriously being all kinds of inappropriate, rubbing her fingers into his shirt and shit. He put his phone back in his pocket and removed her hand, leaning into her and squeezing her wrist hard enough to get his point across. He’d intended to get her out of the hospital and away from the cameras everywhere, but after how shit had just gone down, he needed an outlet for his fear. His anger. “You, are in deep shit.” She blinked, tugging on her wrist, giving him these huge doe eyes, like he was going to fall for that shit. “Raid, you’re hurting my wrist-“ She whimpered, playing the sweet little damsel, just for him. Barf. “You’re lucky I don’t break it.”

She must have decided that she was working the wrong angle, and tried another, going all tough. Wet kitten tough, and not nearly as cute. “Let go, or I’ll call security.” He snorted, stepping closer to her, towering over her and not in the least bit sorry to be putting that look of fear in her eyes. “Actually, that’s a great idea. You can then explain to them why you’ll be wearing handcuffs and getting arrested, for stealing my fucking mail. Did you know, that’s a federal offense? Which equals federal jail time? Minimum, eight years.” She froze, the façade slipping for just a minute, “W-what? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wouldn’t-“

He gave her arm a little shake, squeezing a little harder, just shy of bruising her muscles, but hard enough that she’d be feeling it for a few days. “Don’t. This hospital has digital security cameras. Which means it’s stored off site, online, where someone with skills can recover it. Also, you idiot, you signed the
Federal
Express slips in your own name, when my woman sent me packages. Slips that the company retains, and could be used in a court of law to send you away for much longer, than eight years. Especially when a jury hears that you intercepted and stole the letters of a paralyzed veteran. So I’ll ask you once, where are they? My letters to her, hers to me, those packages.”

Her bottom lip trembled, but to anyone in the hallway, it would just look like the two of us were having a quiet, intimate moment. In the back of his head, he had a moment to freak that somehow, if Nasa could get hold of the hospital security camera footage, so could Athena. And she’d see this, and assume that he had a thing on the side with Shirley.
Fuck
! He should have just told her. She’d have been here, kicking Shirley’s ass right alongside him. “At my house,” Shirley rasped meekly, flinching when he growled at her. “You read them?”

“Y-yes.” Fucking bitch!

“How many?”

“All of them. We could go get them, together. Now.”

“You are un-fucking-believable. You’re going to go home,
alone
, and by the time I’m done with my appointment, you better be right here with every single fucking letter. Every candle. If you’re not, the cops are getting every piece of evidence I have, right here in my pocket, and you’re going fucking down.”

“It was just mail. Stupid love letters,”

He was tempted to strangle the fucking life out of her, but settled for squeezing her wrist hard enough to grind the bones together and make her whimper. “They were not yours to read. But since you did, you know that it wasn’t just mail. Wasn’t just love letters. Someone she loved, died. She needed me, and because you’re a crazy, stupid bitch, I wasn’t there, and she was alone. If you had a dick, I would beat the fuck out of you so bad, that you’d be the one in that hospital bed, living for the moment that letter from someone who loved you, came in the mail.” She shuddered, having curled in on herself in fear, “I b-burned most of the c-candles.” He snorted derisively, enjoying how she flinched. “Of course you did. My woman’s shit is phenomenal. You know she sells those things for fifteen bucks a piece?” Shirley shook her head quickly, “Way I see it, you owe her fifteen for every single one of those candles you burned. Seventy two candles, that’s one thousand and eighty dollars, minus whatever you haven’t burned. So I want our letters, what candles are left, and cash for the rest.”

“But I don’t-“

“Or you can go to federal prison. Your choice. I have an appointment to keep.”

Two hours later, he walked out of the doctor’s office relieved that the surgery wasn’t failing and he wasn’t going to go back to being paralyzed. That the numbness was normal, his nerves trying to adjust and regenerate or some shit. The doc was pleased as punch with his progress, the scans and x-rays were apparently within normal limits, and overall he was very happy. Which made him even happier. That lasted until he walked out of the appointment and saw Shirley waiting with a backpack over her shoulder and a big box under one arm, gnawing on her lip, looking nervously around the corridor, jumping when she saw him. “All the letters,” She handed over the backpack, “There’s um, twenty candles left. Cash in the envelope for the rest. I just wanted you to keep being nice to me, so I thought-“ He took the box, and the backpack and thumbed through the cash to count it. “Don’t give a single fuck, what you wanted.”

He left the hospital and didn’t look back, eager to get the fuck home so he could slap Athena’s ass pink for turning her phone off, and then apologize for not telling her about this trip, or about how Shirley was responsible for stealing their letters to one another.

EIGHTEEN

The only reason he knew that Athena had gotten her shit packed up completely and had gotten a flight to Austin, was because Ever called him to give him a heads up that Athena was pissed at him for abandoning Cruncher at her place. Athena still didn’t have her phone turned on, and every time she didn’t answer, the burning pain in his chest got worse. He got that she was pissed at him, truth, he’d fucked up, but not bad enough for her to go completely radio silent. He beat her to the airport in Austin by fifteen minutes. The look on her face when she saw him sitting on the baggage claim carousel? Priceless. “I bribed Ruckus to hold Cruncher hostage until tomorrow morning. We need to talk.”

She’d been surprised, wary, but now she was pissed. Her eyes narrowed, spitting furious purple sparks at him and he could practically see her hair catch fire. He was sick, because watching her cheeks turn pink and the way her temper lit her up, made his dick harder than granite. She ran her tongue underneath her lip and gripped the strap on her purse tighter, flinging the tail of her braid over her shoulder. So fuckin sexy.

It definitely was not sexy, the way she kept her silence and tried to hide from him how her eyes were also, brimming with tears while she moved around him to yank her bag from the belt. Turning her shoulders away from him when he made to take it from her, denying his touch, denying him the responsibility of taking care of her by carrying her duffle. His gut clenched, having anticipated the anger, but not the hurt. Anger could be calmed, hurt was a whole other ball game, and one he wasn’t equipped to play due to lack of practice.

The silence all the way back to the house was painful. He was torn with pulling over to have it out with her, or letting her take her time to get into it. He’d surprised her at the airport, and evidently that had been the wrong thing to do. Or maybe the very right thing, because if her attitude was anything to go by, she’d have gotten Cruncher and blown him the fuck off. Maybe permanently. Which was a little excessive to his way of thinking, but maybe he hadn’t realized just how much his stretching of the truth had hurt her. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all, she’d hung up on him right after hearing Shirley greet him like they were long lost lovers. Fuck.
Fuck
.

Half panicked, the next red light he hit, he reached back and pulled out the stack of letters he’d already wrapped up, his letters to her, and gently placed them on her lap. “The business I went up there on was half medical follow up, half to get those back. Nasa tracked down the package numbers and who delivered them to the hospital, questioned the guys and got a name. The nurse that took care of me while I didn’t have my legs, signed for the letters and boxes you sent me, and never put those in the mail.” The light turned green and he had to focus on the road, on not hitting any deer. “They’re open,” First words she’d spoken to him yet, and they were soft, a little hoarse. “She took it upon herself to read all of them.”

The next half hour, the silence was a little less tense, broken only by the sound of the road falling away under the tires, and the soft whisper of her fingertips tracing her name on the top envelop. He’d organized them by date, had hers in the backpack in the same order, and the envelope of cash to pay for the candles she’d made, especially for him. She didn’t say anything else, having slumped deeper into the seat and just seemed to have deflated. The anger gone, leaving only the hurt, and he fucking hated that. Fucking hated, that because he hadn’t had the balls to tell her about something that looking back, was nothing, she was hurting.

He pulled into the driveway next to her Jeep and parked. He’d intended to lay it out there for her, tell her everything, but she beat him to it, staring at the stack of letters in her lap. “In the scheme of things, you not telling me about your doctor’s appointments is not a big deal. We’re not married, and you’re not obligated to tell me anything. I made the decision to move here, and I admit that like some stupid teenager with a crush, I based a lot of that choice on being with you. I asked Ever what it meant by the way, club business, and she explained in a way that left no misunderstandings. But it wasn’t club business. It was your business, slightly our business, and you making it sound like my feelings for you were a hindrance, or an inconvenience, then add on top of that a woman’s voice, eagerly telling you she was off in an hour and ready to go when you were?” She rolled her lips together, shook her head and put the packet of his letters on the console between them. “If you had slapped me and tried to throw me down a flight of stairs like the last asshole, I think that might have hurt less. Right now I kind of don’t care why you didn’t tell me. Right now I’m just angry, and I’m tired, and it hurts.”

Truth. Funny how it had the power to rip out your fucking guts. The only comparable sensation he could apply to what hearing her tell him she didn’t care, that she was angry, tired, and hurting, was feeling the shrapnel from that roadside bomb tearing into his body. “Athena,” She pushed out of the car and headed for the house, huddled into the big sweater she was wearing like she was freezing. She kicked the door mat aside and bent to get the key, letting herself in while the enormity of what his stupid, truly unnecessary lie had wrought. The snowball of shit it had turned into.